Breathing silence from a sleeping tongue,
a white vision among black faces
Failing, at provision of thought... glaring
wildly
into the eyes of
Self.
Angry are the irises, which have protruded themselves
forward,
to stretch to the unknown.

Today is strange. So was yesterday.
I do not know what I am feeling. It hurts.
I sound like a broken record, and I apologize for it.
A friend hates me. I feel so uneasy... tense, and depressed over it.

I want to write so bad... but I just dont know what to say...or how to say it...

Confession.
Identity as fire in the hearth,
Bold.
Lying beneath me in the hands of those who tremble,
a pair of souls...
Dwindling within hellish realms,
seeking revenge...
believing in nothing.
A thundering birth enters,
the souls break from their suffocating shells, and
become as one.
Splotches of white form on faces,
and rippling from invalid lips...a cold black.
A pot, large in conformity,
gathers them in great gulps,
a combusts what was always
meant to be.
And so begins the revelation.

Confession.
Identity as fire in the hearth,
Bold.
Lying beneath me in the hands of those who tremble,
a pair of souls...
Dwindling within hellish realms,
seaking revenge...
believing in nothing.
A thundering birth enters,
the souls break from their suffocating shells, and
become as one.
Splotches of white form on faces,
and rippling from invalid lips...a cold black.
A pot, large in conformity,
gathers them in great gulps,
a combusts what was always
meant to be.
And so begins the revelation.

You were beautiful that night
When the heart in the willow failed to beat
It was your favorite hiding place
The moon intruded the sun
and you cried out, "I'm here!
I'm alive!
I exist!"
Not even the stars would listen
not even time itself.
For you grew too swift,
a woman at ten...
An old crone at fifteen.

She would have screamed louder, but by then her voice had already been swallowed by the strange buckle strapped about her small snout.
The creature squirmed inward and outward, her red eyes flooded with bright fear. She shook uncontrollably, as rabbits do often when helpless.
Where were her kin? Had she remembered to give them feed? Did they shiver as she does now, without the warmth of their mother?
The thing moving about in front of her was most peculiar, it made grunting noises and mumbled a foreign language from time to time, occasionally tossing aside metal instruments across the rather large table which reached around the whole room.
It had occurred to her earlier to wonder where she was. Though she didn’t know, she did think it to be a bad place. It was very cold, like the winter is when it blankets the earth’s skies and ground.